Hunting a Hero
by MrHookman
Summary: The Guildmaster tasks a group of Heroes with finding the legendary man who killed Jack of Blades and then vanished without a trace.
1. Chapter 1: The hunt is on

With a sound like breaking crockery, the last minion exploded into nothingness. The air was thick with the dust that was left behind after its death. Only a few minutes ago there had been a dozen of the strange red and blue creatures that had infested the land of Albion recently. The villainous Jack of Blades had used them as foot soldiers and after Jack's death they had no way to return to their homeland, wherever that was. I had spent the last year hunting down what remained of the minion army, now reduced to hiding in caves like pathetic Hobbes. I picked my lantern up from where I had dropped it and made my way out of the cave and its choking air.  
The oppressive atmosphere of the Darkwoods was not much better, the sooner I reached the idyllic town of Oakvale the better.  
The Darkwoods were haunted by all manner of monsters.  
Bandits and Balverines, Trolls and Hobbes, even Skorm worshippers, they all seemed to settle in the nightmarish forest like they were drawn to it. I often wondered whether it was the monsters that made the forest or the forest that made the monsters.  
At least I could console myself by knowing that I was not far from the notorious Darkwoods Bordello, just another five miles of hell on earth and I could enjoy a night in the lap of luxury. Or with luxury on my lap, as the old joke went.  
Through the trees I heard a faint noise. Creeping closer, I recognised it. The familiar garbled speech of a minion, at least three of them. It was time to get to work. When I first became a Hero I took the name Hood but over the last year a new title has been bestowed on me.  
My name is Hunter. It's what I am, it's what I do and as the ever-dwindling number of minions can attest, there is no one better at it than me.

The three minions fell easily, two arrows and a fireball spell turned them into dust floating on the cold wind that seemed to blow through the Darkwoods at all times. I had just passed a sign informing me that the Bordello was only three miles away when a voice spoke to me from nowhere.  
"Hero!" the echoing voice said "You are required at the Guild. You've received a new quest card."  
I felt like shouting at the voice but it was pointless. Trust the Guildmaster to create a system where he could talk and no one could respond!

I threw down my lantern in anger and frustration before reaching for for the guild seal on a chain around my neck. I squeezed the symbol for a few seconds until I felt the tingling in my hand. As I let go my vision was covered in blue sparks.  
Before the sparks could clear I took two steps forward and found myself in the main hall of the Heroes Guild.  
I tried to stop and center myself (Teleporting is always confusing, no matter how many times a Hero does it.) but I was soon pushed out of the way by another Hero leaving the teleportation pad. I recognised him as Ranger, another Hero tasked with wiping out the minions.  
Another followed him. It was Avatar, a Will expert I had trained with when I was studying at the guild.  
I noticed that there were already another six heroes gathered around the map table. They were a mixed bunch. Two of them were Reaper and Druid, sworn enemies for years. Battles between the two had been known to level buildings, even having them in the same town was a risk so whatever the Guildmaster wanted must have been truly important. A short elderly man entered the hall. It was the Guildmaster, who I had never liked that much. I was pretty sure the feeling was mutual.  
He gestured to the three of us stood to the side, indicating he wanted us to join the rest of the group.  
Ranger and Avatar obeyed his order, I was wary but followed a few steps behind them.  
There was some jostling for place as everyone tried to get a good look at the map, except for Druid and Reaper who stood on opposite sides of the table and refused to move an inch. Finally the Guildmaster spoke.  
"I summoned you all here because this quest is of the highest importance. This quest overrides any you may already have..."  
He looked pointedly at me as he said that, daring me to argue.  
"... and it cannot be revealed to anyone outside of this room."  
It was only then I noticed that there were no apprentices in the hall as there would usually be, and the teleportation pad had been switched off after Avatar had entered the room. I was strangely nervous and slowly placed one hand behind my back, ready to summon a fireball. It wouldn't do much damage to anyone in the room but it would at least be a distraction to aid a quick escape.  
The Guildmaster pulled a stack of quest cards from inside his robe and dropped it onto the table.  
"One for each of you. To my knowledge, no official quest has ever had this many active Heroes but it is necessary. Albion needs you, all of you, to find Liberator."  
A shiver seemed to pass through the group. Reaper and Druid finally broke eye contact and turned to look at the Guildmaster.  
Liberator was the one that had defeated Jack of Blades, twice in fact, killing him in his human form and destroying him when he came back as something much worse just under a year ago. He was known as the greatest Hero of our age and he was feared by every other Hero in the Guild. Liberator was a good man. He had trained at the same time as Avatar and I and we had got on well. But no man that powerful could not be feared. He could be vicious when he needed to be. There were few opponents that lasted more than a minute against him.  
Twinblade and Thunder, both known as the mightiest Heroes of their respective generations, fell to him in combat with barely a fight.  
He was last seen just after his final battle with Jack of Blades. He had appeared at the Guild with Jacks mask strapped to his chest. He went to the Guildmaster, broke his Seal in two, and walked out of the door without a word.  
Those who witnessed it say that his stare had been enough to make the Guildmaster cower. I could tell that everyone around the table was thinking the same thing "If Liberator wants to be alone, he'll be alone."

The stack of quest cards still lay on the table, now scattered across the map in a loose pattern.  
"You can work together" said the Guildmaster "Or you can work alone. Whatever you do, Liberator must be found."  
He stepped back from the table and waited for us take the cards, signifying the beginning of the quest. Ranger was the first one to crack, he snatched up a card and made haste for the teleportation pad.  
He hesitated when he realised that it still hadn't been reactivated.  
"Not yet." Said the Guildmaster "Only when you have all taken your cards will you be allowed to leave. We can't risk anyone finding out about this quest."  
Ranger looked accusingly around at everyone else. Three more Heroes, whose names I didn't know, picked up their cards and stepped back from the table. Avatar reached out her hand, hesitated for a moment, and then took a card.  
Reaper grabbed a card and a second later so did Druid. The fourth unnamed Hero, who seemed much too young to have graduated from apprenticeship glanced up at me before letting out a long sigh and taking a card.  
The last card lay on the Darkwoods section of the map. Strangely appropriate.  
In my peripheral vision I saw the glowing red eyes of Reaper turn towards me and I was sure all the others were glaring at me as well. I ignored them and looked straight into the Guildmasters eyes, trying to judge his emotions.  
After a few seconds his eyes flickered in another direction. He couldn't look me in the eyes. He was hiding something.  
I slowly put two fingers on the card and with a flourish I slipped it off the table and into my waiting palm.  
No words were spoken. The Guildmaster simply turned away and left the hall. The teleportation pad burst into life and Ranger entered it almost instantly, appearing to evaporate inside the blue sparks. He was soon followed by two of the unnamed Heroes, as well as Druid who made sure not to take his eyes off Reaper until he had disappeared completely. Reaper relaxed noticeably in the absence of his rival and casually left through the main door. I followed him outside.

The sunlight was momentarily blinding after the darkness of the hall, not that Reaper seemed to notice.  
He was an even more intimidating site in broad daylight. His eyes no longer glowed but the ridges of his black ram-like horns seemed to pulse with the same evil energy that coursed through the bow on his back. Rumour has it he sacrificed many to the dark god Skorm in order to attain the monstrous-looking bow and that a single arrow from it could bring a rock troll to its knees. He nodded towards me before starting down the path that led to Bowerstone, the nearest town. I looked at the quest card that I still held in my hand. It was more of a ceremonial thing than anything else. The areas that should have contained details of the quest and possible rewards were all blank. There was only the words "Find Liberator" at the top of the card and a rough drawing of Liberator, as he looked when he was last seen.  
"Notice it doesn't say why he needs to be found."  
I managed to suppress a slight jump as I was startled by the voice. I turned to see the young unnamed Hero standing behind me, in the shadow of the Guild. He stepped out into the light and walked past me, following the same path as Reaper.  
The young Hero had a good point. Liberator had done more than enough to deserve an early retirement. Why should nine other Heroes risk their lives to search for a man that might just kill them as soon as they find him? This whole quest seemed to be poorly planned.  
None of the Heroes had told each other where they would be searching. We would probably all end up combing the same area of Greatwood for months on end! I reached inside my leather chestplate and pulled out my guild seal, focusing my thoughts on Oakvale.  
Liberator had grown up in Oakvale before coming to the guild; if there was anywhere he would go to hide its there. I felt the familiar tingling and as the blue sparks began to wink into existence in front of my eyes I let my mind wander to one thought.  
"The Hunt is on."


	2. Chapter 2: No signs of life

"Hero, I've been waiting for you."  
Twinblade's voice was like the sound of a landslide. It matched the man perfectly, or at least it did before he had battled a certain Hero. Liberator had come to Twinblade's camp several years ago, worked his way to the inner circle, and dueled with Twinblade.  
He had left the bandit king alive but he had delivered a vicious blow to his spine as a parting gift. Twinblade hadn't stepped outside his palatial tent since, rarely even leaving his bed. The mountain of a man had withered away to a brittle, delusional fool.  
It was only his fearsome reputation that had kept one of his underlings from stabbing him in his sleep and taking his place, but that day was not far from coming. He was propped up in his bed by half a dozen pillows, his infamous swords on a rack next to him.  
"Every Guild-puppet this side of Darkwood seems to find their way to my camp." Twinblade said "They're either looking for information or looking for blood. Which are you, boy?"  
Twinblade's armed guard snarled and jeered at the word "blood". Bandits aren't exactly known for their subtlety but these boys were on a whole other level of idiocy, if they got too riled up then they'd probably tear me limb from limb regardless of whether Twinblade wanted them to or not. Boldly, I took a step towards Twinblade.  
"I'm looking for someone. I figured that if he was nearby you'd know where he was. I'm willing to trade for the information."  
Twinblade slowly leaned forward. I could almost hear his bones cracking as he moved.  
"It takes a lot for me to trade with a seal-slave... but I'm feeling generous. What's the name of the one you're searching for?"  
I knew I was going to regret it but I said it regardless.  
"... Liberator."  
The bandits broke out into uproar. Some drew their weapons and jabbed them in my direction. Others starting throwing curses my way and stamping their feet on the ground. Twinblade shouted incoherently, beating his fists on the bed, until he was reduced to a jolting, spluttering coughing fit. After a few minutes of deafening noise the bandits quietened down and turned to their leader.  
He was silent but his wrinkled, scarred face was quivering with rage. Slowly but surely, he spoke.  
"If I knew where that dog-fucking, slave-stealing, whoreson Guild-puppet was then I would cut his limbs off, digit by digit, and hang him from the highest tower I could find. Then, before he choked to death, I'd cut him down and finish him off with my own blades, ONE IN EACH EYE!"  
This outburst led to more coughing. Personally, I thought he was being a little bit overly dramatic but I certainly wasn't going to tell him that. I didn't bother to make my excuses, I just left the pathetic ex-Hero to his sycophants, his delusions and his soon-to-be deathbed.  
As I passed through the great wooden doors I heard Twinblade cry out to me.  
"When you find him, tell him I'll be waiting for a rematch! Tell him that, puppet!"

Oakvale was a complete waste of time. I had spent a week asking everyone in the town whether they'd seen Liberator, then I searched the nearby woods and farms. After that I visited the cemetery hoping that Liberator would have left a clue at the graves of his father and mother, the Hero Scarlet Robe. Twinblade was my last resort and that had done nothing but depress me.  
As I made my way back to Oakvale I tried to think of where to search next, thinking of places where Liberator had triumphed greatly over the years. Knothole Glade seemed to be the most logical option. Liberator had killed a legendary White Balverine in that town and had fought his way through the Arena, which was only a stones throw away from the Glade.  
I decided to stay another night in Oakvale and teleport to Knothole early the next morning.  
I reached the tavern in which I was staying and was greeted by a gaggle of adoring fans. After the Guild had defended Albion from Jack of Blades its people were more in awe of Heroes than ever before. I had to plough my way through a crowd of buxom maidens and yokels offering free drinks. A thought occurred that made me hide a smile with my hand.  
This was yet another thing I could blame on Liberator. I was starting to agree with Twinblade, he really was a 'Dog-fucking, slave-stealing, whoreson Guild-puppet.'  
Well, maybe not that last part. Breaking your Guild seal was pretty much equivalent to slapping the Guildmasters arse. Whatever the Guild wanted Liberator for, it certainly wasn't going to welcome him back with open arms. I managed to make my way to the room in which I was staying and settled down for sleep with a dagger under my pillow.

I awoke to the sound of cheering out in the main room of the tavern. Packing up my belongings was a simple task, I always travelled light, and by the time I was done the cheering had weakened into a general buzz. Curious, I ventured out.  
There was a large group of people gathered in one corner, crowded around someone.  
Firstly I dropped a bag of coins on the bar as payment for my lodging. Then I made my way to the crowded corner.  
I parted a way through the people, most of which were at least a head smaller than me, and barged through, sure that I'd find a Hero at its centre. I was correct. Avatar sat at a table, showing off by juggling small fireballs between her hands.  
Her face fell when she saw me and the fireballs winked out of existence.  
"How long have you been here Hoo- I mean, Hunter?" she said.  
I told her about my week. As we talked the crowd began to disperse, bored without the flashy Will tricks to distract them.  
When I had finished my story we both left the tavern. As we walked, Avatar told me of where she had began her quest.  
She had made a temporary alliance with Reaper and searched every inch of Bowerstone, from the slums to the affluent North district. There was no sign of Liberator there either. Avatar had remembered that Liberator had grown up in Oakvale on the 6th day, and decided to come here. We were both frustrated by our findings. We were quickly running out of 'easy' places to search.  
Soon we would be hunting Liberator through Witchwood and the Northern Wastes, places that no sane person would ever willingly venture. We both stood on the dock, looking out to sea. Avatar already seemed exhausted by the quest. I could relate.  
Searching for a man who seemed to have just vanished without trace was tiring, especially since we had no idea how Liberator would react if we ever did find him. I realised I was staring and looked away quickly but she didn't seem to notice, she was still focused on the choppy waves far off in the distance. She reached inside her coat and pulled out a telescope. I tried to follow her eyeline but I couldn't see anything. With the telescope on her left eye she raised a hand. I felt a rush of air flow past me and understood what she was doing.  
Avatar had mastered the Will magic known as 'Force Push' to such a degree that she could use the invisible energy created to pull things towards her instead of of repelling them away. As the target of her spell drifted closer towards us through the water I began to see glimpses of it through the waves. It looked like a person.

The corpse made it to the shore and I dragged it further in before the tide could take it away again.  
He was a Hero, no doubt about that. He was tall and muscled as only a Hero could be, with the dark, cracked skin on his hands that suggested the use of Evil Will. He couldn't have been dead any more than a day, pale and bloated only slightly by the sea.  
He had been brutally beaten, there were bruises all across his naked body and his head was a mass of swollen flesh and ragged cuts. Avatar gasped when she saw his arm.  
"Its... Its Gladiator."  
I didn't know the name but I recognised the tattoo on his forearm. A skull with a snake crawling through the eyehole and a line of text in a language that I couldn't read. This was one of the Heroes that had been ordered to find Liberator. Avatar teleported to the Guild to inform the Guildmaster. I wasn't sure whether to stay with the body or not. By this point some of Oakvales inhabitants had noticed what was going on and a small crowd had formed nearby, watching me and the thing that used to be Gladiator.  
I closed the eyes of the corpse, not wanting to see the glazed, bloodshot stare anymore, and then stood up. I trusted the people of Oakvale to at least bury the poor bastard and I was impatient to leave, so I teleported away to Knothole Glade.  
I stepped out into the rain and my head pulsed with nausea. The horn blaring out from the town wasn't helping. Half-blind, I trudged toward the town gate but realised it was closed. I suddenly remembered what the sound of a horn meant in Knothole Glade. A guards head appeared in a little window in the gate.  
"Sorry mate, you know I can't let you in!"  
I knew what would come next and drew my sword in preparation. Sure enough, the horns low moan was joined by a feral high-pitched howl.  
That howl was joined by another, and another. The noise grew to unbearable levels, ringing in my dazed head and blurring my vision. I turned around and looked out into the woods surrounding the town. My gaze was met by five pairs of eyes.  
Completely white eyes, filled with hatred and hunger. The five of them emerged from the shadows of the trees Slow, cocky, believing me to be trapped. Their wiry, furry bodies quivering with anticipation of a kill.

Balverines.


	3. Chapter 3: Monsters, ahead and behind me

The balverines spread out in a ragged semicircle, trapping me in place. My back was against the Knothole gate and the rain was dripping into my eyes. I couldn't even count their number, one seemed to become two every time I turned my eyes away.  
I had forgotten how tough Witchwood was. In the Darkwoods, balverines usually came in pairs at most but Witchwoods balverines always travelled in packs with an alpha leader. I could see the alpha in the center of the line, taller and brawnier than the others, staring me down. My hands tightened on the handle of my sword. I didn't have time for any spells, they would either fall short of their target or open me up to an attack from another side. With a guttural battle cry I charged forward with my blade pointed straight at the alpha.  
The pack hadn't been expecting something so bold and their scant seconds of surprise where all I needed.  
As I closed in on him the alpha swung a clawed hand at my head, I ducked and planted my sword in the center of his chest!  
The alpha was wounded but not dead. I tried to prize the sword from his chest but it was lodged in his sternum; he grabbed me with both hands and dug his claws into my waist. Crazed with pain, he tried to snap at my head but the sword in his chest acted as a buffer between us. He roared in my face, spraying me with disgusting spittle, and threw me away into the mud I slid to a stop and managed to roll myself into a standing position, reaching for the knife strapped to my boot. Some of the balverines had fled when I had stabbed their leader but there was still plenty left. The alpha retreated slightly and tried to pull the sword from his chest, his unwieldy claws making it hard to even grip the handle. A smallish balverine broke rank and loped towards me. I threw a fireball its way, causing it to run away through the trees with singed fur. Another two came at me at from either side. I managed to dodge out of the way and the two collided.  
I was trying to figure out how to kill them both with one knife when three gleaming white arrows soared through the air from behind me and hit the two balverines. Another Hero had come to my aid but I couldn't afford to turn around and see who it was.  
One of the balverines had been hit by two of the magic arrows and had fallen instantly, the other had survived with an arrow in his lung.  
I grabbed its broad, hairy head and slit its throat open. Another balverine charged me and managed to drag me to the floor, the others saw this was their opportunity and entered the fray. The other Hero, whoever it was, managed to hold them off with arrows while I struggled with the one pinning me to the ground. It was taking all of my strength to keep it away from me.  
I trapped its claws under one arm and used the other to stab at its slavering mouth. Undeterred, it simply bit down on the blade and tore it out of my hand, taking my only weapon away and nearly taking my hand with it. I punched the beasts face a few times, stunning it, and then used Force Push. The tenacious balverine was flung off me and landed a few feet away.  
As I leaped to my feet I took stock of the situation. My mystery helper was good, there were only a few balverines left standing.  
The Alpha had managed to loosen the sword but was distracted by the half-dozen arrows sticking out of his back. I ran towards him and pushed him to the floor. He landed on his back, forcing the arrows deeper inside, and I grabbed at the sword.  
With a little bit of effort the sword was pulled free and blood began to shoot from the alpha's chest wound. He was dying, it was obvious.  
I left him and went to take down the last two balverines. I beheaded one and watched the other die with an arrow in his heart.  
As the last one fell I heard the ghostly, wheezing howl of the alpha as his last breath escaped his lungs.

The door inside the Knothole gate opened up with a rusty creaking noise and three guards stepped out, nervously holding their swords out in front of them. I ignored them for the moment, instead looking up at the guard tower for the one who had assisted me.  
I hoped to see the face of Liberator staring down at me but instead I saw the flowing white-blonde hair of Druid.  
He put away his bow, which caused the arrows sticking out of the balverine corpses to disappear in a burst of sparks, and indicated that I was to meet him in the town before turning away and stepping out of my sight. The guards approached me. I was covered in balverine blood and was bleeding from the sides, I was not in the mood to deal with those cowardly blades-for-hire.  
I grabbed the blade of the leaders sword with my gloved hand, tore it from his grip, and threw it to the other side of the corpse-littered copse.  
"Go fetch" I spat out and stomped past the three of them, into the town.  
Druid stood underneath the statue of Scarlet Robe, in the shadow of her massive axe. His pristine white clothes made me feel slightly ashamed of my bloodstained, muddied, patchwork armour but I kept my head up and refused to break eye contact.  
"I can assume" I said "That Liberator isn't here?"  
Druid nodded.  
"Have you checked The Arena?"  
He shook his head. His silence infuriated me and I was seconds away from lashing out.  
"Then I'll go and look for him there, then!"  
"No." said Druid.  
I put my hand to my head, before remembering the glove was covered in blood and pulling it away again.  
"Why. The fuck. Not?" I said through gritted teeth.  
"That was a difficult battle, you should spend the night here to recover. I'll search The Arena instead."  
As much as I wanted to ignore him, Druid was right. With the increasing healing rate of a Hero I would probably take only a day to recover, but if I was forced into another fight today I would probably get stomped underfoot.  
I sighed. "You're right, Druid. The taverns up on the hill right?"  
"Please, use my house here instead, its just past the tavern." He said, handing me a key.  
I was too tired to argue, and if he wanted to be unfailingly nice then I felt no guilt about abusing his trust! I took the key and followed Druids directions. I could feel my limbs getting heavier as I walked. I was ready to collapse but even I couldn't sleep covered in balverine blood, so I decided to take a bath.

I dried myself with one of the fluffy white towels that Druid had left out (That guy seemed to have a real fetish for the colour white) and entered the bedroom. The door closed behind me with a bang and I spun around.  
There was a man standing behind the door with a sword in his hand. He was wearing a white mask with red and black markings.  
It was a mask that had last been seen hanging from the chest of Liberator. This man was obviously not him, if he was I would have been dead by now. He let out a harsh laugh and started to twirl his sword through the air in a deadly figure-of-eight. I wasn't impressed.  
I used the Assassin's Rush, a will spell that was a form of short-range teleportation, to vanish and reappear behind my ambusher.  
I put my arm around his neck and my other hand on the side of his head.  
"Please" The man shouted "Don't kill me!"  
I increased the pressure on his neck and he jolted.  
"Who are you" I barked "and who are you working for?" The man refused to answer me.  
"Where did you get the mask from?"  
He still didn't answer, but he whimpered underneath the mask. I could see now that it clearly wasn't the original, it was made of some kind of thin wood and was attached with string.  
I tightened my chokehold again and started to push his head to the side. He cracked. He spoke, in a strangled wheeze.  
"I'm... I'm from the Cult of Blades, we all wear the face of our Lord!"  
"Jack of Blades? You... You follow Jack of Blades" I said.  
"The Lord of Blades will return, and we will be be rewarded as the faithful! Druid, you must die to please him!"  
I leaned in and whispered in his ear "I'm not Druid, you pathetic fool."  
The cultist started to scream something but before he could I snapped his neck and let his body drop to the floor.

I guess that answered the question of who killed Gladiator.  
This masked cult had probably ambushed him, and killed him before he could mount a defense.  
If the man sent after me hadn't been an arrogant moron I probably wouldn't have survived. I couldn't help but think about Liberator.  
He was last seen with Jacks mask on his chest. Could it be possible that he was connected to the cult?  
I dressed quickly, leaving most of my armour behind and just grabbing clothes and a weapon.  
I hated talking to the Guildmaster but all the Heroes on the quest needed to know about the Cult of Blades, and the quickest way to inform them was through the Guildmaster. I was still exhausted and wounded but they _needed_ to know.  
With a sigh and a curse, I took hold of my Guild Seal and activated the teleport...


	4. Chapter 4: Is nothing sacred?

Ranger appeared from the teleport pad, carrying the failed assassin over his shoulder and my armour under one arm.  
The Guildmaster led him deeper into the Guild and directed him to drop the corpse onto the long table that was usually used for eating by the apprentices. I was sat at the table and he tossed my armour to me. I caught it but couldn't stop from wincing, the balverine wounds in my sides had been stitched up but still stung whenever I moved. The dining hall had been emptied of all the apprentices and Guild staff, the Guildmaster was obviously still trying to keep the hunt for Liberator a secret. Every other Hero on the quest had been summoned.  
Our numbers had been reduced by one with the death of Gladiator but it was still an unbelievable number of Heroes in one place.  
As usual Reaper and Druid were standing at opposite ends of the room, refusing to break eye contact.  
The rest of the Heroes were scattered around the room, some sitting at the table and some standing around, all of them waiting for the Guildmaster to get on with it so they could continue their quest. They perked up at the sight of the mask and gathered around the body as the Guildmaster pulled it off the dead mans face. The man looked normal. Just like your average villager, with grey-streaked hair and the weathered face of a man who had worked his entire life. His head was resting at a disturbing angle after I had broken his neck but ranger reached over and pushed it back into place with a hollow snapping sound. The Guildmaster opened the corpses eyes and examined them.  
They were glazed and empty, muddy brown in colour. He then reached down and opened the corpses simple wool shirt.  
As more buttons were opened we could see that there was something on his chest. Intrigued the Guildmaster impatiently tore open the remaining cloth and flung the shirt open. There was a brand on his torso. A vast, complex series of sinister markings, burned into the skin of his chest and seemed to match the markings that adorned the mask.  
The Guildmaster drew his fingers along the ridges of the brand, making sure it was real. Druid was visibly disturbed by the gruesome scars. It was understandable, this man was sent to kill him. Or worse. The Guildmaster stepped away and clapped his hands for attention.  
"The quest has changed" he said "We won't be bothering with quest cards anymore, you will receive your orders directly from me."  
The more Guild-minded among us were confused by this change in protocol, but they didn't question it.  
He continued "You will be split into two teams. Reaper, Ranger, Pilgrim, Arrowdodger, you will continue to search for Liberator.  
Druid, Avatar, Sabre, Hunter, you will work together to find and destroy the Cult of Blades."

The room seemed to divide itself as the Guildmaster walked away.  
Reaper and Ranger stood together and the two others soon joined them. Druid and Avatar nodded to each other and stepped away to one side.  
Sabre, the young Hero that had talked to me outside the Guild, looked unsure. I stood slowly, trying to avoid another stabbing pain in my ribs, and went to join Avatar and Druid. Sabre followed after me. The other team went their separate ways, they had no real desire to collaborate Our team had no choice, the Guildmaster had been clear that we must work together.  
Two of the Guilds guards appeared and took the body away, probably to be examined more thoroughly by the Guildmaster.  
I put on my armour and made sure I still had all of the weapons hidden between the plates and inside the chainmail.  
It took me many months to master the art of walking in my custom-made armour without jangling like my bones were made of coins. When I was fully prepared Druid seemed to take the lead.  
"We will start in Oakvale" He said in a voice so quite it was almost a whisper "If Gladiator washed out to sea near Oakvale then we should check up and down the coastline."  
We all reached for our Guild Seals as one and activated our teleports. As the blue sparks began to cascade upwards I caught sight of Sabre, my vision was distorted but I could swear that I saw his face contort in pain just before he vanished.  
The teleport seemed more uncomfortable than usual, there was a strange tugging sensation that made my skin tingle and my eyes dry in their sockets. I was the third to land, after Druid and Avatar. As soon as I felt solid earth under my feet I lurched forward and vomited onto the ground. It felt like everything in my body had been pushed through the eye of a needle. When my retching ceased I looked upwards.  
Avatar was leaning against a fence, her face was deathly pale.  
"Happened to you as well?" She said in between deep, cleansing breaths.  
I nodded and looked around for Avatar. He was sat in the shade of a tree, holding his head in his hands.  
I managed to stumble to my feet, ignoring the pain in my sides and the hollow feeling in my stomach. I looked over to the teleport pad and waited for Sabre to appear. The seconds passed into minutes as Druid and Avatar recovered and came to stand with me.  
After five minutes we gave up on waiting for Sabre. He must have gone somewhere else. It happens sometimes, A Hero gets distracted and appears in a completely different place than he wanted. Of course, that didn't explain why the teleport was much worse than it usually was, or why Sabre hadn't just teleported straight to us after he had landed in the wrong place.

We made our way to the tavern, to wait for Sabre a bit longer and to get a drink to settle our stomachs.  
The barman recognized Avatar and I and hailed us with a cheer and a free round of drinks, Druid refused the alcohol and instead drank milk. We drank as fast as we could. I don't know about the others but I couldn't stand the fawning adoration that seemed to surround a Hero in any public place. As we left I glanced at the teleport pad, there was still no sign of Sabre. I took a closer look and noticed that the pad appeared to be sparking. I got the attention of the others and jogged over to the pad. Druid and Avatar both outpaced me and reached the pad first, kneeling down to examine the pad. As I got closer I felt a strange rush of energy.  
I shouted out to them to get back, not sure what was about to happen but knowing that it couldn't be good. Before I could complete my sentence there was a blinding flash of blue-white light. I caught a glimpse of Avatar and Druid getting blasted backwards before I myself was thrown back by the wave of force. I blacked out for a few seconds and when I woke there was a ringing in my ears that blocked out everything else. I dragged myself into a kneeling position. I couldn't see anything for smoke, it seemed to be flowing outwards from where the pad was. I used Force Push to clear the smoke from around me, just so I could think for a second.  
My stitches seemed to have been opened up by the impact, I could feel the hot blood against the skin of my sides and stomach.  
I limped towards the center of the chaos. As the smoke began to clear I caught sight of someone standing by the teleport pad.  
The figure moved towards me and burst through the smoke. A blade was thrown towards my chest. I managed to twist to the side and the dagger hit the pauldron on my shoulder, lodging there. Before I could recover my attacker advanced on me and punched me in the stomach. I backed away, deeper into the smoke. I planned to hide, I wouldn't be able to see my attacker but he wouldn't be able to see me either. Lights flashed behind my eyes as the back of my head was hit with a club.  
I recoiled away, straight into a vicious kick to the knee. With the smoke clearing I could see that I was outnumbered by two, and all three of them wore the expressionless, white mask of the Cult of Blades. I had fallen into a false sense of security, believing that all the cultists were as useless as the man that I had killed. It was a mistake that I could be paying for with my life.  
I fell to one knee, surrounded by the cultists. The tallest of them drew a horrifying serrated short sword from inside his coat.  
"The lord of Blades requires living sacrifice, you will come with us."  
"I'm pretty sure my mother told me to never go with strangers" I spat back, in a strained voice "Especially when the strangers want to kill me to appease a god that doesn't exist!"  
The man behind me clubbed my head, driving me to the ground.  
"It was not a request." Said the leader, as he let the tip of his sword brush through the dirt next to my head. "The vessel of our Lord will show you the error of your ways, before he takes away your worthless life."  
Either these men were completely insane or the leader of this cult was **very** convincing. Either way, they were dangerous.  
Fortunately, I wasn't as helpless as they believed me to be. As one of the cultists grabbed me by the hair and lifted me into a kneeling position, I slid a small knife from my sleeve and hid it in my hand. Never let it be said that Hunter was an easy target...


	5. Chapter 5: Stuck in the middle with me

A yell echoed through the empty streets of Oakvale.  
At the sound of an explosion most of the towns citizens had fled to their homes but the guards were finally responding to what they believed to be another bandit attack.  
They rallied together and advanced on the three invaders and their hostage, the hostage being me. The guards leader, a stocky old man, was doing the yelling.  
"Halt!" he cried out to the masked soldiers "Or we shoot to kill!"  
At the word 'kill' several of his men raised their crossbows, snarling in a way that brought to mind a hungry wolf staring down a wounded man. The arrival of the guards did not reassure me in any way. Guards were notoriously violent, and this group seemed to be particularly blood-thirsty.  
It looked like some of them would probably shoot a hole right through me, as long as the cultists died as well.  
I could see why they were so hostile. Oakvale had been ravaged by bandits years ago (Which is what brought Liberator to the Guild, coincidentally enough) and ever since that day the people of Oakvale had been waiting for another attack, just to prove that they could give as good as they got.  
The guards offered a momentary distraction, I took it thankfully.  
With a small blade lodged between two fingers, I reached up and sliced at the wrist of the man holding me by the hair.  
He gasped, more out suprise than pain, and pulled away from me.  
That wasn't enough to stop my face from getting sprayed with dark arterial blood, so hot I was sure it would burn my skin.  
Before the two others realised what was happening I struggled to my feet, turned around, and planted the blade in the cultists ear. I would have preferred an eye or his throat but I wasn't in a position to choose, dazed and wounded as I was.  
The Guard Captain raised a hand, halting his men. He wanted to see if I could finish this myself.  
The two remaining cultists heard their comrade's harsh scream and one, the club-happy man, turned to face me. The two were now back-to-back.  
I wanted to give the man a taste of his own medicine and so I drew my own club, a short, metal-plated stick of oak-wood that I had concealed under a series of plates to the left of my spine.  
My attacker was still reluctant to step away from his friend, I used this to my advantage and took a minute to pry out the dagger that had been lodged in my pauldron.  
The blade was too light, designed only for throwing, but my love of poetic justice was winning out over my common sense.  
The leader of the cultists murmered something to his friend, it was impossible to tell what.  
At that moment the wounded cultist, who I had mistakenly thought to be out of the battle completely, lurched towards me.  
He was still bleeding freely from his wrist and ear, which was hanging on by only a strip of flesh, but he still attempted to fight me. I brought the club down on his mask with a dry crunching sound.  
He didn't fall, he instead took a few unsteady steps backwards.  
I seemed to have broken his mask in two with the powerful strike.  
Through the fracture I could only see a small sliver of his face and it was mostly obscured with the blood creeping its way down from his brow, which I had split open right in its centre.  
He let out a strangled wheeze and pulled off one of the mask-halfs, revealing his broken, disfigured features.  
I pointedly turned to look at the club-wielder as I prodded his concussed friend in the chest with my club.  
At the slightest pressure the poor man crumpled to the ground and made no effort to get up again.  
I didn't enjoy toying with someone who no longer had any idea where he was, but I was theatrical at heart and it gave me that ever-important phycological edge against my remaining opponents.

The club-wielder was finally incensed into action and advanced on me. I kicked the downed cultist to the side and raised my own club, which now had a trickle of blood running down to its handle.  
The leader was now taking quick glances behind him every other moment, hopelessly trying to keep both me and the guards in his sight at the same time.  
I attacked first, aiming for his stomach.  
He blocked my swing, sending a jarring sensation through my bones. I was surprised by the mans strength, he didn't seem overly muscled but he was at least strong enough to defend himself against a Hero.  
We continued to exchange blows, rooted to one spot and swinging our clubs in an increasingly desperate fashion, until he made an unexpected feint and cracked his weapon against my shoulder.  
I rolled with the impact, spinning on the spot, but my shoulder had gone completely numb.  
I had taken the hit but I had won the fight, all because of one simple mistake. He had forgotten the dagger in my other hand.  
I brought the dagger up as I span. I barely even had to push it in, such was the force that the spinning had built up.  
The blade entered in between the cultist's ribs and lodged in something soft.  
Blood trickled out from underneath the mask, possibly from his mouth. I tried to pull the dagger out but the flimsy blade snapped and I was left holding only the handle.  
I turned on the final cultist, the one who had threatened me with the wicked-looking serrated sword.  
I could tell he had heard every second of his underlings death, maybe even glimpsed some of it, and he was visibly shaking.  
He slowly turned to face me with his sword raised in front of him like a shield. Behind him I saw a guard raising his crossbow and firing before the others could stop him.  
With reflexes faster than anyone, man or Hero, has a right to have, I fired off a wave of Force Push, knocking the cultist to the ground before the crossbow bolt could bury itself into his chest. I had hoped that my spell would also knock the bolt of course, but I had no such luck. The cruel steel spike passed centimetres away from my stomach and continued on its way, until it embedded itself in a low-hanging tree branch further down the path. The Guard Captain turned towards the man who had opened fire and knocked the crossbow out of his hands.  
I rushed towards the remaining cultist. He was face-down in the dirt, struggling to get back to his feet.  
I grabbed a handful of the mans hair and slammed his head into the ground. I tore the mask from his face and repeated the action two more times, until he went limp.

When the guards realised the battle was over they advanced on me.  
They surrounded the bodies of the cultists and started to take them away. When they hauled up the unconscious leader I shouted for them to stop and leave him to me.  
The Captain stared at me for a moment and then nodded to the others. The guard holding up the mans body shrugged, let the cultist drop to the floor, delivered a kick to his ribs and walked away.  
Leaving the guards to clear up the aftermath, I started to search the long grass for my companions.  
There was a clear path carved in the grass, leaving a dark fissure in the ground, caused by someone getting flung through the air. I hadn't had time to wonder how the cultists had managed to destroy a Cullis Gate, let alone in such an explosive fashion, but following this blackened scar was filling me with dread.  
The Cullis Gates had proven to be almost indestructible, even Jack of Blades hadn't been able to destroy them during his invasion of Albion!  
At the end of the path was a small crater.  
I could see a hand gripping the edge of it.  
I used the Assassins Rush to cover the space between me and the crater, dissapearing and appearing with a rush of air.  
Avatar was lying in there, semiconscious and trying to claw herself out. She croaked out my name and I dropped down into the hole to help her out.  
As I lifted her up and tried to push her out of the small pit, I noticed what was underneath her.  
Druid had managed to protect Avatar from the explosion and subsequent crash landing. but he couldn't do anything to defend himself. His body was shattered beyond recognition.  
I only realised who it was from the white rags, stained with blood and dirt, that had managed to survive.  
Not being able to look at him anymore, I climbed out of the hole.  
Avatar was already standing, taking long drags from a potion bottle. Physically she seemed fine, but she was shaking like a leaf and her eyes seemed... older than they had only a few minutes ago. She looked like she was about to speak but I walked back down the path, taking slow, deliberate steps.  
I wanted to run away from the corpse in the crater but it seemed weak and cowardly, so I just walked.  
I made my way to the road to Oakvale again.  
The guards were still standing around, looking at the charred earth caused by the explosion.  
I walked through the group, slung the unconscious cultist over my shoulder, and walked back into the long grass.  
The guards didn't question me, they could tell that I was in the mood to swing at anyone who talked, they just stared at me until I was hidden in the grass again.

The cultist came round slowly. His face was caked in blood from a nasty cut on his forehead.  
His eyes flickered and he drew in air with loud gasps.  
The sight of Avatar and I woke him up completely; we were stood over him, both holding knives.  
He tried to hide his fear but without his mask he was like an open book. I held up the mask in my other hand.  
"Who the fuck..." I said, pointedly "... Are the Cult of Blades?"  
He kept his mouth closed.  
"I thought you'd say that. Lets try something easier then."  
I nodded towards Avatar, she raised a hand and summoned lighting to dance around her fingers.  
The cultist's eyes widened.  
"Whats your name?" I asked.  
He shook his head, more to himself than to us.  
Avatar flicked her hand towards him and an arc of blue energy hit his chest. He jumped and shook on the ground, like a freshly-caught fish.  
"Again, whats your name?"  
When his teeth stopped clicking together he managed to say something.  
"Thomas. My name is -URGH- Thomas."  
"Nice to meet you, Hobbe-licker." I said "Now, why did you attack us?"  
He didn't need lighting to answer that one.  
"The Lord of Blades commands it! The Heroes will die to appease him!"  
"And who is the Lord of Blades?"  
Thomas hushed up again. Avatar summoned a ball of fire this time and his face seemed to crumple in fear of what she about to do. She held the fireball close to his face, slowly getting closer and closer.  
I placed one foot on his chest to ensure he didn't try and move.  
When the fire was so close it was reflected in his eyes he shouted out.  
"Its Jack! Jack of Blades!"  
I sighed in frustration and stomped on his chest. He screamed in pain.  
"Jack is dead, has been for a long time, so who's really the Lord of Blades?!"  
He was crying now, tears making tracks in the bloodstains on his face.  
"Its his mask! Whoever wears the mask is possessed by Jack!"  
I took my foot of his chest and Avatar pulled her flaming hand away. We shared a look, we both knew that Liberator was the last one who had been seen with Jacks Mask.  
I pulled him into a kneeling position by his shirt.  
"One last question. Where is the Lord?"  
He looked into my eyes and I could see true fear inside him.  
"I... I can't, I really can't." He said in a quiet whimper.  
I expected him to say that but I was so enraged I let go of his shirt and kicked him, sending him flying into the crater.  
Avatar was visibly disturbed by that.  
I stood at the lip of the crater, looking down at him.  
He was scrabbling around, trying to move away from Druids mangled corpse.  
"Druid was a good man. I didn't like him much but he was the best Hero I ever met, in every definition of the word!"  
He was slipping in the blood surrounding Druid and kept on falling into it, gibbering like a lunatic.  
I had the feeling that most of these cultists had never really had any real experience of battle, or had ever faced the aftermath of a murder.  
"He didn't deserve to be killed by a cheap trick, or by a bunch of cowards in fake masks!"  
By now I was shaking with anger.  
"Run back to your Lord." I barked "Tell him that... Tell him that he's started a war. Tell him that I'll see him on the battlefield."  
With that I stepped back to allow him to leave the hole.  
He did so then backed away slowly before breaking into a run and dissapearing into the tall grass, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

I turned to look at Avatar, who seemed shocked at my outburst.  
That was probably the most she'd ever heard me say in the many years we had known each other.  
I let out a long sigh and drew my hand through my hair.  
"Go and tell the Guildmaster whats happened" I said to her "You should walk, the Cullis Gates aren't safe anymore and every Hero needs to know that."  
"And what are you going to do?" She asked.  
I pointed at the trail of Blood Thomas had left behind.  
"What my name implies." I answered "The hunt is on... Again."

**********  
Authors Notes: I really couldn't resist writing that last line, despite the cheesiness. I just wanted to tell everyone that I'll be slowing down my output a bit. I've just started college and while its actually a really good schedule (Four day weekend you mothas!) it does mean less time for writing. I'm hoping to make the chapters longer to compensate though.  
Hope you enjoy this latest chapter and stay tuned for the continuing adventures of Hunter, the broodiest of all Albion's Heroes!  
Same Fable-time, same Fable-channel!


	6. Chapter 6: Sun doesn't rise at all

Thomas continued his frenzied journey, having left the fields of Oakvale behind long ago for thick forests that seemed to go on forever. He wasn't to know it, but I was never more than a mile behind him.

To me, hunting was an art. There was beauty in the balance between staying close to your target and staying out of sight.

Love in the quick and effective killing blow, whether it was with a blade or an arrow.

The hunt gave me an inner piece that nothing else could. As I crept through the undergrowth, keeping my eyes peeled for markers signifying Thomas' path, I could feel the pain of the last few difficult days slipping away. Of course the healing potion I was taking the occasional swig from helped as well.

Tracking the semi-crazed cultist was far from a challenge. He was babbling to himself and kept on tripping over tree roots, making enough noise for the most inexperienced hunter to find him, and he was still leaving a trail of blood behind him. I was confident that I could follow him all the way to the base of the Cult of Blades, less so about what to do once I was there. These cultists seemed to be stronger than the average human, on par with a novice Hero at least, but if Thomas was any indication they were mentally unstable as well. I had broken the young man's mind so easily it was shocking, and his cronies hadn't seemed much better.

There was also the matter of whoever was following me. I was sure that there was someone on my tail; I had no evidence of this but I felt it like a knot in my stomach, something... dark, for lack of a better word, was heading my way.

After what I believed to be about twelve hours the trees began to thin and I was close enough to see Thomas increase his speed to break out of the dark, oppressive forest. I was only a minute behind him and soon I had to stop at the tree line, to maintain my cover, and watch Thomas sprinting down into a valley.

At the bottom of the slope was a collection of tents, gathered around one tent almost large enough to be a marquee.

The sun was close to setting, bathing the valley in reddish light, and I could see people beginning to light torches around the tents. I retreated slightly into the trees, making sure I could still see the small community.

I had not forgotten the person following me. I knew it would be better to deal with them at that moment than have them arrive while I was getting a closer look at the Cult camp and fucking everything up in the process.

I dropped my pack onto the ground and set to work.

Reaper burst into the small clearing I had set up camp in, eyes burning and cloak billowing out behind him like the wings of a demon. From my hiding place I could only see his eyes in the newly-fallen darkness, glowing a shade of red more violent than any I'd seen before. Those eyes conjured up images of long-ago nightmares, of evil creatures hiding in the shadows of a child's bedroom. Reaper stumbled on a length of rope I had placed just for that purpose and without hesitation I launched myself from the branches of the nearby tree in which I had been hiding and landed on his back, sending him toppling onto the ground. While I had him pinned, I summoned a ball of fire to my open palm. With the new light source I could see the trademark curved horns.

"Reaper!" I barked, turning his body to face me.

He greeted me with a furious growl and lunged up at me. He managed to reverse the situation, pinning me to the floor and striking me across the face.

I drew my knees up and kicked him off. He rolled away and then sprang to his feet. As soon as he realized who his attacker was his shoulders slumped and his eyes seemed to dim slightly.

"You" He said, with a casual wave of his hand "I hoped I'd find you, although I could have done without the ambush."

"Sorry, didn't realize it was you." I said, picking myself up from the dirt "Wasn't really expecting reinforcements that fast."

He pointed a finger in the direction of the valley as if to say "This way?" I nodded and headed off through the trees with Reaper only a few steps behind me.

He stood at the tree line, staring intently at the camp far below us. The light in his eyes had dimmed to the point that the camp wouldn't be able to see us, for which I was thankful.

I was slightly further back than him, sitting against a tree.

"Heard about Druid then?" I asked.

At the mention of his late enemy every muscle in Reapers body seemed to tense up.

"Yes." He said with his back to me "And now they will all die."

I sincerely hoped that by 'they' he meant the Cult.

"I thought you hated each other?" I asked, genuinely confused.

He turned his head towards me slightly.

"We didn't always." He said, then turned back to look at the camp once again.

I had always thought of Reaper and Druid, as well as their 'Good Vs Evil' rivalry, to be pompous and tiring.

It wasn't until I saw the exhaustion in Reapers face that I realized, they had thought so too.

I wondered what it was that had drawn the two of them into such a passionate, life-long battle, but I could see that Reaper wouldn't be telling me any time soon.

He might not even have known the answer himself.

Reaper realized he had let his mask slip for a second and got straight back to business.

"You believe Liberator is leading the Cult?"

I stood up from the tree and said "The man we interrogated said that anyone who wears Jack's mask becomes the vessel for Jack's spirit..."

"... And Liberator had the mask with him when he was last seen." Said Reaper, finishing off the theory that I really didn't want to believe was true. "Not solid proof, but good enough. The rest of our group should be here within hours, we attack at sunrise."

For a second I wondered why so many Heroes were necessary, but I banished the thought almost instantly. We were about to launch an assault on a group that had already killed at least two Heroes, possibly led by the strongest Hero of his generation.

In that situation, there is no such thing as overkill.

(linebreak)

They arrived one by one, slipping through the trees and joining us with few words of greeting.

The mood was understandably somber. I think we all suspected that we were on a suicide mission.

Ranger was the last one to appear, it was clear from his face that he had considered simply not coming. I wouldn't blame him, or anyone else, for doing it.

Avatar was looking shaken, Druids sacrifice had obviously hit her hard, and she was compulsively summoning a small fireball in the palm of her hand, extinguishing it by making a fist, and then summoning it again.

Rangers arrival signified that we were about to go to war and I made one final check of all my hidden equipment before drawing a vicious-looking small sickle from a concealed pocket The sickle was an old favorite of mine and its familiar weight in my hand was strangely comforting.

I let out a long sigh.

"Well" I said with a casual wave of my hands "Are we doing this or not?".

The forced gaiety wasn't fooling anyone but they at least listened.

Reaper stood up, adjusted his cloak, and pulled his demonic bow from his back.

"He's right." He said, his eyes beginning to glow again "The sun is rising, we can't delay any more."

There was no pompous speech-making or vows to die together, nothing so dramatic.

We simply walked out past the tree line and began to walk down into the valley.

Reaper aimed a black-feathered arrow towards the largest tent and then summoned fire to coil around the arrow like a snake.

The burning missile landed directly on target, setting the tent ablaze on impact.

This was the signal to begin the assault.

We all threw anything we had at the camp, Fireballs and Force Pushes and Lighting.

People were streaming out of the tents and charging towards us. When I saw this I stopped flinging spells and starting flinging weapons, drawing one blade at a time and aiming carefully.

Ranger joined me with his crossbow, sending bodies tumbling down the hill.

By now the camp was a wreck. Most of the tents had collapsed under the unrelenting rain of Will magic and their inhabitants were scattered and panicked, like ants whose hive had been trodden underfoot.

Some wore masks and those that weren't were carrying them in their hand or on their chest.

The line of warriors that had charged towards us was ragged, thinned by Ranger and I, but the survivors were the toughest of the bunch.

A bald burly man with a crossbow bolt in his shoulder was leading the attack, brandishing a gigantic axe and screaming like a banshee.

The Heroes were forced to stop their aerial assault when the Cultists broke upon them like a wave.

I found myself grappling with an Auroran man with his mask hanging half-off his face.

He was stronger than he looked, so much so that I had to concentrate entirely on him instead of aiding my fellow Heroes. In the crush of people I couldn't raise my sickle to fight back; all I could do was absorb the Auroran's blows and deliver a few myself.

Whoever was pressing on my back was pulled away and I swung my sickle around, straight into my opponent's side. He froze in shock and I kicked him away.

He disappeared into the sea of bodies and was soon replaced by two more Cultists.

With space to move I was unstoppable. Spinning in a low arc, I cut the legs out from underneath a few Cultists. I increased speed and moved upwards, cutting into the stomachs of another four people.

I was forced to a stop with a jolt as the sickle lodged in a mask, I had to let go of it.

My dance of death had cleared a large circle around me and I used it as an opportunity to help the other Heroes. I grabbed a Cultist from behind and held him while Reaper cut his throat.

Then I rolled to the side and tackled another Cultist, allowing Avatar to fry him with a bolt of lightning. I found myself back to back with a Hero who's name I learned later was Arrowdodger.

He had lost his weapon and his fists were stained red with blood. I passed him a knife and ducked into the fray again. It seemed like the battle would go on forever, but eventually the ranks began to thin.

The last few Cultists tried to escape back to the ruined camp but they were cut down by a massive fireball, the spells of three Heroes combined into one. The one survivor was still sprinting down the valley, his clothes burning around him.

He tripped and rolled down the hill, coming to rest at the bottom. A thick plume of smoke rose up from his body, joining with the larger columns rising from the burnt tents.

One of us had fallen, a young woman who's name I had never learned. As I came down from the battle-high I saw Ranger kneeling by her body. We regrouped, taking long drafts from healing potions, and turned to face the camp.

The scattered people were no longer running around like headless chickens. They were all stood in place, staring up at us.

I realized that not all of the Cultists were warriors, they were a mixed group.

Men, women, and even children stood in small clusters around the remains of their camp.

Reaper started forward down the hill, a deep gash on his arm leaving a ruby-red trail behind him, and the rest of us fell into step behind him. Our victory had made us confident, perhaps overly so.

I could feel a tightness in my gut, which should have told me that something was wrong.

We made a fearsome sight, a gang of fully fledged Heroes marching forward like a force of nature, but the Cultists showed no sign of fear. They weren't even moving.

As Reaper reached the bottom of the hill he shivered slightly, it was barely noticeable.

He took another step. I heard a strangled noise from deep in his throat and then he collapsed.

It wasn't like he was knocked unconscious, it was as if all of his limbs just stopped working at once.

Avatar held her hand out to stop me but Ranger and Arrowdodger were already rushing to help him and they both fell at the same spot. The surviving Cultists suddenly seemed a lot more dangerous when there were only two of us left standing and I could hear the three fallen Heroes groaning in pain. One of the groups parted slightly to allow one of their number to step forward. He was dressed in a red cloak that covered his entire body, with a hood that concealed his face. In the pink-orange sunlight of the still-rising sun there seemed to be a haze around the man, a barely perceptible aura the like of which I had never seen before. I could just tell that this man was responsible for whatever magic had defeated my fellow Heroes. When the robed man took a step towards us I instinctively took a step back, as if his spell was like a magic bubble that travelled with him at all times.

A gloved hand appeared from the folds of the cloak and he held it up to me.

"Don't worry." He said, in a cold, calm voice "I don't want to harm you".

All of Avatar's muscles went tense beside me and I knew why. The man sounded a lot like the infamous Jack of Blades.

'A lot', though not completely. To untrained ears it would sound just like the late villain but to mine, honed by many years spent tracking targets through any number of environments, there was a foreign inflection that was never present in the voice of Jack, who I had talked to once after he had watched Liberator fight in the Witchwood Arena.

On that day he had fooled me as he fooled everyone else. He had a strange charisma that allowed him to mask his intentions as well as he masked his appearance, something else that was missing from the voice of this pretender.

It was pretty obvious that he was the leader of the cult; it was also obvious that he was not Liberator.

The man was nowhere near as tall or muscled as him and, most importantly, Liberator would never use a will spell as insidious as the one which had taken hold of Reaper, Ranger and Arrowdodger. The three of them were still twitching on the ground, kept conscious only by the pain.

"It appears we have reached an impasse" said the Jack imposter "You can't attack me and I won't attack you. Perhaps we can negotiate a peace treaty for this war I apparently started." I couldn't see his face but I could just tell he had said that last sentence with a smirk on his face, teasing me over my outburst back in Oakvale. I was tempted to toss a fireball his way, and damn the consequences, but I doubted whether it would even affect him. While he certainly wasn't Jack of Blades there was still something otherworldly about the leader, something that promised more than the naked eye could see.

I closed my eyes for a moment and sighed deeply. There only seemed to be one option I could think of that didn't end with me dying a painful and probably humiliating death.

I turned to look at Avatar, she saw my intentions in my eyes and gave the slightest of nods.

I dropped my blade to the floor with a jarring clanging noise.

"Alright then" I said, with two clenched fists and a face like stone "Let's talk."

* * *

**Thanks to ShadowedFang for beta-ing this story, you deserve more praise than I could ever give for making it twice as good as it would be without your editing.**


	7. Chapter 7: Blend and Balance

When I agreed to talk, the Jack impostor raised a hand and beckoned us forward.  
I took a step closer but Avatar refused to move.

"No!" she cried, shaking her head violently "I'm not going anywhere near you, monster!"  
"Then leave." Said the fake Jack, voice as impassive as ever. "Tell the Guild, if you want. There's nothing they can do anymore."

I turned my head to face Avatar, she looked unsure of whether to stay or leave. I gave her a barely perceptible wink and then continued on towards the camp. I heard her trudge back up the slope and had to fight the urge to take one last look at her.

I reached the bottom of the hill where the three Heroes lay, twitching and groaning. I kneeled down to check on the closest body, Ranger, while keeping a careful eye on the red-cloaked man.  
Ranger's skin was almost translucently pale, his eyes were bloodshot, and there were twin trickles of blood coming from each nostril. He tried to talk but when he opened his mouth his teeth started to chatter uncontrollably. I was tempted to activate his Guild Seal for him, teleporting him back to the Guild, but the Cult would probably tear me and the remaining two to pieces if I did so.

Besides, I doubted that the teleportation would even work, Whatever magic the Cult had used to ambush us at Oakvale would probably either send him back to the Camp or kill him outright.  
Instead, I stood and walked towards Jack. There was a breeze blowing through the valley which had lifted his hood slightly.

I could see the lower half of a bone-white mask with its red and black markings. The part that I could see certainly looked more authentic than the imitations that the rest of the Cult wore. I was beginning to doubt myself. Starting to believe that this man really could be Jack of Blades, risen from the grave. I could feel fear rising in my throat like bile as I got closer and closer to him. For some insane reason all I could think about was my father telling tales of Heroism by the fire, back when I was just a normal child. Back when Jack of Blades was seen as a true Hero by the people of Albion, not a psychopath hellbent on destroying the world. My father was a hunter, I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, and he had taught me everything I needed to be a Hero long before I came to the Guild.

He had worn a red coat in the autumn, to blend in with the foliage during a hunt. I had forgotten that fact for a long time but it seemed strangely significant at that moment, like a bookend to my life.

As I stood just a few feet away from Jack past and present seemed to become one and I could see my late father in his long, mud-stained red coat, standing side-by-side with the masked murderer in his tattered cloak. I tried to block out the phantom from the past and talked, despite the fact that my mouth didn't want to form words.

"Well. Shall we negotiate?"

I heard a soft exhaling noise from the mask which I assumed to be a snort of derision.

"That can wait, Hunter. I'm much more interested in you."

I was confused and tried not to show it."Why are you interested?" I asked.

Jack paused for a minute while my father - No, not really him - stuck his hands in his pockets and lolled his head to the side, something the real man had often done when he was in deep thought.

"You, of all the other Heroes that surround you, are fascinating to me" Jack said slowly, as if he was carefully considering each word "This generation, and those that preceded it, have allowed only the most ego-obsessed and selfish of Heroes to rise to the top. Countless amounts of potential, squandered on pursuing petty grudges and impressing ignorant peasants..."  
Jack's voice didn't change from its usual calculated tone but I could tell he was fighting the temptation to shout. This was clearly a subject he had spent a long time thinking about.

"... And yet within that vile, poisonous mass, there was you. I find it difficult to name more than a handful of Heroes who would spend a year alone in the Darkwoods, hunting down the dregs of my former army, denying themselves any human contact but a whore's. What's more, I can only name one that would do so willingly."

I wondered how he knew so much about my activities while he was supposedly dead. I could still sense the smug smile on his face.

His words had reminded me that, if this really was Jack, it was his fault entirely that I had spent a year in the most dangerous place in Albion. A year sleeping on the cold, hard ground, or balanced in the unforgiving tree branches when it wasn't safe enough on the ground. A year fearing every shadow I saw and every sound I heard, knowing that the one thing I missed would rise up behind my back and kill me before I could scream.

I may have gone to the Darkwoods willingly but I had never been there for my own enjoyment.  
"I wonder if you even realise how deeply the Guild has buried itself inside you. I wonder... If you even remember your real name."

I did remember it but it took me a second longer than it should have done to dredge up the memory and Jack saw this, he pounced on it.

"Do you see yet? How about your childhood? Do you remember those precious years?"  
I was starting to panic because I really couldn't. I had thought about it before and I all had was the vaguest of images.

My father and his red coat by the fire, a blonde boy with a smear of dirt across his face, a wolf pelt I had used for a blanket. Whenever I tried to go deeper into memories they all seemed to distort themselves and blend into a mess of blurred colours and snatches of random conversation.  
"Its the Guild" said Jack, snapping me out of my own thoughts "They destroy the memories of your past life, to ensure that your only allegiance is to them. There are few that can walk the Guilds path without succumbing to their infection. I had hoped you would be one of them but it seems we are not that lucky."

The ghostly image of my father seemed to be pervading my vision, even though I was trying to not look at him - Not him, it-. Most disturbing of all was its face, so similar to mine... But he hadn't looked like me. Not really. We had shared the same eyes but I mostly took after my mother. I risked another glance at the apparition to make sure I wasn't mistaken.  
I wasn't.

The man in the red coat was me, thicker in the face and older in appearance but undoubtedly me. Not my father.

My clouded memories had hidden that from me but once I put my mind to it I could see my fathers face in my minds eye. A warm smile with a chipped front tooth, a nose that bent in the middle from a break years before I was born. A bold, proud face… The face of a hunter. I realised that the Jack imposter had been talking the entire time. "... I'll think you'll agree that the Cult is a much more worthy cause than the Guild. You could be the Hero that changes the world into something greater than the average mind can even imagine."

I used the Assassin's Rush, vanishing and blinking back into existence behind his back with a brief flash of blue light. He just had time to make a "Whh" noise before I wrapped my arms around his throat and snapped his neck in one sudden jerk.

I let the body drop to the ground. My Non-father was nowhere to be seen, just an illusion the pretender had created to try and capitalise on my broken memory, and the three Heroes had slipped into unconsciousness, no longer kept awake by the constant pain.  
I kneeled down and pulled the corpses hood away from his face.  
His lifeless eyes were a glassy blue. Up close it was obvious that his mask wasn't authentic either, it was just slightly better made than the others. I picked up the mask by the eyeholes and removed it.

The imposter looked no different than anyone I would meet in a tavern. Average in every way, certainly not a Hero. So how he could use magic well enough to create a detailed illusion of a human and incapacitate three incredibly powerful Heroes with no physical exertion whatsoever? I turned to see the Cultists. They were all stood in a crowd, just staring at me with blank faces. I lifted the imposters body up by the hood, leaving its feet to dangle off the ground.  
I lifted him higher in the air so they could all see his face.

"This man is not Jack of Blades and he never was! You have all been lied to!" I tossed the corpse to the ground. They still didn't react, their impassive faces infuriated me. "I don't know what you were all doing, and frankly I don't care. All I care about right now is getting medical attention for them."

At that, I swung my arm around and pointed at the unconscious Heroes. A muscular shirtless man stepped out from the crowd. He pulled the mask from his face and dropped it to the floor.  
His body was covered in the brands that I had previously seen on the bodies of other cultists, something he was undoubtedly already regretting. He walked towards me and I readied myself for a fight. He stopped in front of me, he was almost as tall as me despite my magically enhanced height. He looked into my eyes for a moment and then nodded and brushed past me. He slung Arrowdodgers body over his shoulders and stood by my side. Another two similarly burly men rushed to pick up the other two Heroes after they saw that the branded man was willing to help me.

"This way." He said in a surprisingly soft voice, before he walked towards the crowd. He gestured towards a small red haired d woman, who was either fearless or doing a good job of pretending to be. The three men gently put their charges to the ground in front of her. She glared at the leader.

"Do it." He said. His voice was still soft but I was sure I could hear a sharpness to his tone that I didn't like at all. She glanced at me for a second and then kneeled down next to the unconscious s Heroes and pulled a tall vial filled with red liquid from her bag.  
She tipped two drops into Rangers open mouth and within seconds his face had relaxed into the expression of someone having a pleasant dream. I was tense, ready to spring forward and knock the vial from her hands. I had no idea what these people wanted, she could just be poisoning all three of them. She repeated the process on the other two and soon they were all sleeping soundly.  
The woman stood and turned towards me.

"I made the potion to counteract the spell thats poisoned them. They will sleep for several hours and then wake up, perfectly healed." She said those words dully, like she had been rehearsing them for days before she said them. She tucked the vial back into her bag and walked away into the silent crowd.

"Alright, all of you." Said the branded man "Start putting away the camp. We leave before sunset."

I was confused. I didn't think these people would listen to anyone after I killed their Leader, let alone want to stick together, but they followed the man's orders perfectly. The fires had all died by then and the cultists started to fold up what remained of their tents and pack them away into massive containers.

"You, erm... You don't seem that concerned about me murdering your God." The branded man turned towards me with a strangely sorrowful look in his eyes. "No, you didn't… That man, he was just a conduit for a greater power. A pathway to the final destination." A cold weight dropped into my stomach.

"But then... Why are you helping me, helping the Heroes?"

"Our Lord doesn't want the Heroes dead. A weapon needs ammunition, after all."

"Wha-" His fist slammed into the side of my head. Lights flashed behind my eyelids and I stumbled back to try and escape, lashing out with a fist of my own. I hit something hard and when my vision cleared I swung again, taking the breath from his lungs. Before he could recover I slipped out a hidden knife and cut his throat in one sweeping motion. His blood sprayed onto my chest but he refused to fall, instead he stumbled forward and grappled with me, staining my entire front red. I got a boot in between our bodies and kicked him away to die but his job was already done.

His distraction had been enough for five more men to break free from the crowd and cut off any chance of escape. Behind them I could see another group dragging away my sleeping comrades, heading for some kind of short, flat structure still covered in a sheet of grey/green fabric. My attackers showed no fear.

They charged as one and I was soon caught in a whirlwind of fists and feet. Someone grabbed my wrist and squeezed down on it until I dropped the knife, then they twisted my arm behind my back and tried to wrench it out of its socket. I jerked my head back and felt a satisfying crunch but he refused to let go. Another punch to the head left me too dazed to respond when my knee buckled underneath me from a kick. I had one hand free to send an attacker flying with a Force Push but the hand was soon occupied blocking the blows of another of the Cultists. A steel-capped boot hit my stomach and I doubled over with a bark of pain. The man holding my arm tossed me to the floor and they started to kick every inch of me that they could, reducing my body to so much useless muscle and dead nerves. I could feel the lights going out in my mind, one by one. Another memory came to me, one I had forgotten years ago. My father, the day I left for the Guild. He made me promise something.

"You're a Hero now, and a Hero fights. I want you to promise me that if someone does ever defeat you, you'll not surrender. If someone manages to kill you, you'll take them with you. Promise me, Michael?"

I promised him, swore on my mother's life, to never die easily and then he walked away, the ends of his coat swishing through the dirt. He never looked back. In one last desperate attempt to survive I summoned a final spell, a wave of roaring fire.

The last thing I saw before the last light of my mind was snuffed out was the glorious sight of my attackers screaming and flailing, clothes burning to their skin, masks igniting over their faces.  
I let my head drop to the ground and closed my eyes. I watched the lights going out behind my eyelids for a moment, marveling at their beauty, until there was only one left.  
I mumbled to myself "I did you proud, Dad," and then the light went out.

The lights, on again. Stinging my eyes. Pain in my wrists, wires digging into the flesh. Straps on my chest, trapping me in place. Cuts and bruises, everywhere. The world is pain and light and wires. Someone by my side, black horns. I know him but I can't remember the name. A man in a hood, can't see his face. He turned to me, black hole where his features should be.

"Welcome to your new home, we've been waiting a long time for you."  
The wires start to burn, smoke rising from my skin.  
I wanted to scream but I had no voice to scream with.  
The man cocked his head to the side.  
"I hope you're not going to faint. Its much easier when you're awake."

* * *

**Well, that was dark. I really shouldn't watch Saw before I write. I wish I could have made this chapter longer but I really wanted it to end on that cliffhanger. Shout out to ShadowedFang for making my writing actually legible.**** Anyway, stay tuned for the next chapter.**** I can tell you one thing, it's gonna get messy!**

**Your faithful bard, MrHookman...**


	8. Chapter 8: My Weakest Moment

The room stunk of something stale and smoky, like a campfire after rain. The wooden pole I was bound to sent splinters into my back whenever I moved. Every few minutes there was a pulse of blue-ish light behind me, lasting for a few seconds before fading away.

The room seemed to be designed to keep me awake, no matter how much I longed for sleep. It was a torture chamber, after all.

My captors didn't call it that as such, but what else could it be? I didn't know what information they were trying to tear out of me but nothing warranted the pain they wrought upon me. The wires still dug into my arms, even more had been added, and I could feel them burrowing deeper inside my flesh every now and then. Like clockwork, my tormentor would return every three hours and when he did the wires would start to burn. Smoke would rise from my skin and I would scream like the banshees that haunt Hook Coast.

In my more lucid moments I knew that I was sharing the room with the three others, Reaper, Ranger and Arrowdodger, and they too were suffering just as I was. I knew it, but I was so wrapped up in my own pain I ignored theirs, blocking out the screams and turning a blind eye to the contorting figures I saw through the constant haze of smoke. There was a fourth, a withered silhouette that I would sometimes glimpse in the corner of the room, but I had no idea who it was or if it was just an illusion made by my fractured mind. If Hell exists, it has nothing on that room.

* * *

After what seemed like months without food, drink, or sleep, our torturer appeared once again through the smoke.

I still hadn't seen his face but I had learned to fear his nasal, wheedling voice. He was humming as he walked towards me, something light and upbeat.

"Good" He said, sauntering towards me "You're awake. You know I do prefer you to be awake."

I had given up talking completely; there was no point when he refused to listen. I just gritted my teeth in preparation for the pain but I was startled by a rumbling sound. The torturer was just as confused as I was, turning this way and that, mumbling underneath his breath. The rumbling ceased and he turned that blank non-face towards me again.

"I don't know what that was…" He said, airily "But it's stopped now, back to the business at hand."

Before he could take another step closer light flooded the room, driving a spike straight through both my eyes. I had to shut them immediately and as such I could only hear the heavy footsteps moving across the room.

The torturers voice, cracking and weak "Please, don-"

There was a cutting noise and a heavy thud, as if something were dropped from a great height. Someone exhaled loudly, and then those heavy footsteps came closer.

There was a series of snapping sounds and another sigh, closer this time, and I felt the straps holding my right arm break and fall away.

My mysterious benefactor then proceeded to draw each of the wires out of my arm, I tried to stay silent but as the first one left my flesh I couldn't help but scream. After that was done there were more retreating footsteps, heavier this time, then silence.

Through my eyelids I could see that the light had faded but I was scared to open them, my eyes still burning from the initial burst of light. I cautiously opened one eye, just slightly. I was relieved to see the brightness was contained to a tall rectangle at the far end of the room, a doorway out of a nightmare. Whoever had invaded the room had also freed one of my hands.

I was disorientated and weak but I still had the wherewithal to snap off the leather straps holding my legs and remaining arm. I then began the arduous task of removing the wires from my left arm. By the time I was finished I was light-headed and I slumped to the floor, knowing I should be escaping but feeling the warm beauty of sleep calling for me.

"You son of a whore! Wake the fuck up and get us out of here!"

It wasn't the best wake-up call I'd ever had but, surprisingly, it wasn't the worst. I groaned and propped myself up on one arm.

"Our torturer is dead, the door is open, you're free, no one is coming to change that fact, and you're having a nap!" screamed Ranger, eyes wide open and face an unnerving shade of red. I could finally see that the wires in our skin dissapeared into small holes in the walls. I stood on unsteady legs and hobbled my way towards him.

"How the Hell did you ever get out of apprentice-hood?!" He spat, as I broke his right hand free.

"You're gonna regret saying that in a minute." I croaked.

"Wha-" he barked, before I pulled the first wire from his arm, taking none of the time and consideration I had used on myself.

He bellowed like a wounded bear and as soon as his arm was free he took a swing for me. I dodged it and left him to sort out his left arm, turning to Reaper instead. From behind me I heard Ranger growling through gritted teeth as he tugged the wires from his skin.

Reaper was out of it, completely dead to the world. Arrowdodger was nowhere in sight. Neither was the mysterious fourth, although I still wasn't convinced he had ever existed in the first place. The most I got was a twitch from Reaper when the wires were pulled from his arm. As I unlocked his bonds he slumped to the floor.

"See?" I said to Ranger "He's pretty tired as well!"

There was a hollow snapping sound from behind me and Ranger let out a strangled gasp. I turned to see him holding a long length of wire in one hand, a jagged end jutting from his other wrist.

"It... Broke."

We had to leave it in, in the end. We tried to tug it out of there but the piece was too small to get a good grip on with just our hands. Eventually Ranger just gave up, broke his remaining bonds and hauled Reaper onto his shoulders.

"You do realize..." I said "That if there's anyone still out there, we're completely defenseless."

As the light hit his face I saw the paleness of his skin, the way it seemed to be stretched tight over his bones. I wondered if I looked the same, after so many long hours of torture. His muscles were shivering; I could see it from here, under the dead weight of the unconscious Reaper. He looked lost and desperate.

"I know." He sighed heavily and then stepped out into the light.

There was no one there to stop us. Well, technically there was but they were in no shape to stop us. We stood in a courtyard with walls made of dark stone bricks. There were doors and corridors leading off in several directions and a higher bastion above with a flight of stairs leading up to it. It took me a while to take in the locale because it looked like Skorm himself had marched through the place, whatever the place was. Bodies were piled against the walls, blood staining the cobblestone floors. Ranger was already flagging, slowing his steps. "I can't... I can't..." He gasped, before placing Reapers body on the ground as gently as he could and resting against a pillar.

I tried to lift Reaper myself but Ranger was stronger than me, I could barely get him off the ground. I didn't even know which direction the exit was in; everything was just corpses and cobbles.

"How did this happen?" Ranger sounded so broken it hurt to listen to him.

"We're Heroes. Heroes, for fucks sake!" His eyes were glazed, a thousand-yard-stare if I've ever seen one.

"No one is meant to be stronger than us" He sighed "Some Heroes we are."

I couldn't listen to it anymore, there's nothing sadder than a proud man defeated. If I'd had a weapon I would probably have attacked him. I was just about ready to strangle the life out of him when I heard the hollow echo of footsteps.

"Ranger, on your feet."

"No, no I can't." He sobbed.

The footsteps were growing louder; echoing so much I couldn't tell where they were coming from. I was so frustrated that I yelled.

No words, just a desperate scream.

"Ranger, you want to be a Hero? You think you're so worthless?" At this, he raised his head slightly and looked me in the eye "There's a defenseless man lying here and the enemy is coming. Prove yourself, stand up and fight! If you're not a Hero then at least try and do what's right."

He stared at me for a moment, nothing going on behind his eyes, and then he slowly stood up straight.

"Hunter... You're a good man." He drawled, each word sounded like it was tearing him apart as it left his mouth "We never gave you the credit you deserved."

My eyes were flickering around the courtyard, looking for the owner of the footsteps.

"Save it for after this is over, Ranger."

"No, it has to be said. That torturer... He treated you worst, I saw it. Gave you the most of whatever he was giving out."

Now I turned to him, the pain in his voice telling me that he's telling the truth.

"You haven't seen yourself. You're... You're a dead man walking, or you look like one at least, but you still haven't given up."

"Please!" I interrupted "Just stop talking, Ranger. I don't want to hear it."

I tried to summon lightning, it wouldn't work. I tried to slow time, it wouldn't work. We truly were defenseless, all three of us.

Stripped of all our weapons we would have to fight like animals, fists and feet and nails and teeth. I could finally hear which direction the footsteps were coming from and I prepared myself to charge into the shadows and face whatever was there.

"Ranger? Hunter?"

I stopped dead as the familiar, grinning face of Avatar appeared from the darkness. Her smile faded as she looked upon us.

"My God..."

I can't remember what happened next. I'm pretty sure I fainted. All that was keeping me going was the will to survive, the presence of Avatar told me that I was safe and my body shut down. The next time I opened my eyes I was in a bed in the Guild, with an apprentice standing watch over me. I couldn't even raise my head but I managed to groan, causing the apprentice to rush out of the room.

He returned with the Guildmaster in tow.

"Hunter." He greeted me with a nod "Don't try to talk; you've been asleep for the last three days."

Despite his warning I wrestled with my vocal cords until I could growl "The others?"

He assured me they were fine, that I should sleep.

"Mirror..."

"I'm afraid I can't allow that right now, Hunter. It would just upset you." He turned to leave "Rest, boy. It's for the best... For everyone."

His comment about the mirror had me enraged and as he walked away I yelled for him to come back, to give me a mirror, to get me out of the bed.

He didn't even glance back. He just walked away, his words echoing down the corridor.

"It's for the best... For everyone."

* * *

**Well, this was a tough one to write. Partly due to writers block, partly because the theme of this chapter was a little bit close to home, I guess you'd say.**

**Shout out to ShadowedFang for beta-ing this chapter. You've probably noticed because its now, y'now... readable.**

**Anyway, hope you guys enjoy it. Stay tuned boys and girls. We're nearing the final stretch, all the pieces are coming together... Liberator is just around the corner.**


	9. Chapter 9: Let it all bleed out

I was trapped in the bed for two weeks, or at least I think it was two weeks. When all you see is blank walls and blank faces you start to lose track of time. There was a new apprentice every so often, it may as well have been the same one because they all seemed to look and act exactly the same. They said they were there to guard me. They were lying, obviously. I had no idea why but the Guildmaster wanted me out of the way. He had never liked me that much but I hadn't expected him to cut me off completely, distrust me to the point of placing someone at my bed to watch me every second of every day.

On the fourteenth day Avatar walked into the room, shooed the guard away and sat in the chair next to my bed. She looked tired and she was wearing a face that seemed to say she was about to tell me my dog had just died.  
"You look better."  
"I wouldn't know." I sighed "They haven't let me see what I look like."  
"It's for the best, Hunter." She said, unknowingly echoing the Guildmaster "Ranger didn't..." She paused, looking for an appropriate word "He didn't react well."  
"And Reaper?"  
"We can't wake him. We believe that whatever was being done to you fed on Will energy. Reaper had the most, so he was the worst affected."  
I took a moment to think about Reaper, always so powerful, reduced to a coma. Avatar had to wave her hand in front of my face to get my attention.  
"Hunter, what did Jack of Blades say to you?"  
This question confused me at first. I had completely forgotten that Avatar, and by extension the rest of the guild, had no clue that the man in the mask was an imposter, or that I had killed him.  
"So is that why you're here?" I spat "The Guildmaster sent you to force information out of me?"  
She looked shocked "Information? You're one of us, we shouldn't have to force you to do anything."  
She was either a good actor or she genuinely believed she was in the right. I had known Avatar for a long time. She had never been that good at lying and she had always been unerringly loyal to the Guild.  
"I'll tell you everything I know but I want two things. I want a mirror and I want to see the Guildmaster."  
"The Guildmaster is too busy to come down here himself and I-"  
I cut her off and yelled "Then get me a crutch and I'll go to him!"  
I felt sorry for Avatar, she was so loyal to the Guild that she could probably have kept up her arguing until I passed out from exhaustion. As it was, I just pretended to fall asleep until she left frustrated. She just couldn't understand why I was so reluctant to share my knowledge with her. I didn't fully understand it either. Charlatan or not, the fake Jack had gone some way to opening my eyes. The Guild was destroying the memories of its Heroes and no one had even noticed. This fact alone had me descending into downward spiral of paranoia, who was I supposed to trust if even my own memory wasn't reliable? I could have already told the Guildmaster everything and he could have just wiped the memory away to torment me some more and anyone, even dear Avatar, could be in on it!

Shortly after Avatar left, when night had fallen on the Guild, the guard returned to the room. I was still feigning unconsciousness; eyes closed and head down on the pillow. He leaned over my bed, I think it was to check that I was still breathing, and I used my good arm to grab him round the neck and hold him close.  
"Alright, boy..." I growled "You're not going to make a sound and you're not going to move a muscle unless I tell you too. Got that?"  
The young man, little more than a child really, nodded frantically.  
"Good. Now, when I say so, you're going to help me stand up out of this goddamn bed."  
He nodded again, eyes wide like a puppy.  
"Now!"  
I raised my legs, withered from the torture and the lack of use, and swung them to the side, already feeling like they were about to tear off at the waist. I put all my weight onto my hostage and with a grunt he pulled me upwards until we were both stood, me leaning against him.  
"The sword." I gasped, gesturing at the blade attached to his belt.  
He took it from its loop and cautiously handed it to me.  
"Sorry about this, kid. Nothing personal."  
I swung the handle of the sword at his head, so much heavier than I ever remembered it being, and the blunt edge of the pommel opened a long, bloody gash across his brow. The boy looked perplexed for a second, and then he collapsed to the floor. Without the aid of my human crutch I almost joined him, I had to reach out and steady myself against a wall. One hand on the cold, reassuring stone, I hobbled over to the door and swung it open. Through it there was a corridor, empty of all life. Another wooden door lay slightly ajar at the end. Achingly slow, I made my way down the corridor, stopping every few seconds to shake another rattling breath into my burning lungs. Through the open door I could hear raindrops falling onto the ground, strangely inviting when you've experienced nothing but the stale air of a deathbed for so long. As I reached the door, I stumbled. My leg fell from underneath me and I collapsed onto one quivering knee. With one hand I shoved the door further open and raindrops spattered onto the very tips of my fingers. One leg trailing behind me, I crawled out onto cool, moist grass. The light summery rain seemed like an Auroran monsoon pounding down on my weakened frame but I thanked the gods for it, it was a constant reminder to keep moving, to stay awake at all costs.

I had no idea what stage two of my plan was. Quite honestly there wasn't really a stage one, the only thing keeping me going was desperation and the belief that nothing good could come from staying to rot in that bed. Not so far away, I could see moonlight reflecting off of something. A puddle, forming in a slight dip in the grass. I still had not seen my face; I needed to know what was so horrible that the Guild flatly refused to show me it. The rain had gone some way to reawakening my rusted muscles, standing was still out of the question but I was able to crawl my way to the sliver of silver light that was calling to me like a beacon. I dropped the sword, letting the wet grass swallow it up. Its not like I was strong enough to use it, all it could do was weigh me down. My fingertips dipped into cold water and I knew I had finished my short but pathetically tiring journey. I lifted myself up onto my elbows and stared into to the thin layer of rainwater. With a hoarse cry, I slipped off my elbows and landed face-first into the puddle, bouncing off the ground and rolling to the side. The reflection I'd seen in those scant seconds was enough for me to understand why my body was so weak and why Avatar had looked at me with a mixture of grief, sympathy and fear. What I'd seen didn't look like me, at least not the me that I remembered. My skin had never been so pale and loose, flecked with black veins of Will magic gone wrong. My eyes had never been so sunken and staring. They were the eyes of an amnesiac, forever lost and confused. I was half-dead already. I couldn't even think about escape anymore, I just lay in the grass and waited for someone to find me and drag me back to the bed. It seemed like I was there for a couple of hours at least, gentle rain tapping against my closed eyelids. Eventually I started to wonder, why had I not been discovered yet? Surely someone had noticed the unconscious apprentice and the empty bed? There was a slight, muffled crunching noise. It was then that I opened my eyes again and looked up into a face that I had not seen in a very long time.  
"Hello, old friend." Said Liberator "I believe you've been looking for me."

I struggled to sit up, my bare feet digging into the grass.  
Liberator took a step back "No time to explain, just try not to throw up."  
He raised his hands and for a moment they glowed a vibrant green, then he splayed his fingers in my direction and the eerie emerald light followed, striking me in the chest as I tried to right myself. As those shimmering sparks dove into my skin I felt like something was exploding in my veins. My limbs began to twitch and as I opened my mouth Liberator leaned down and clapped a gloved hand over it.  
"It's painful, I know. But it needs to be done."  
I bucked and twisted in the grass, my bones seemed to burn inside the skin. The pain reached a hideous peak and I was sure that there was steam pouring from my eyes and mouth, and then there came a strange cooling sensation.  
"Huh…" said Liberator, taking his hand away from my mouth "Well, that was a bit more extreme than I thought it would be… Can't argue with the results though."  
I rose into a sitting position, the pain of just a moment ago had vanished. Not just that though. My head was clearer, my limbs not as leaden. I clenched my fist, marvelling at how much easier it was. Then I swung it at Liberators smiling face. He took it on the chin, barely even turning his head. The grin faltered but flickered back into life a second later.  
"You're welcome." He chuckled.  
"Fuck you!" I growled. With agility that would have evaded me only seconds ago, I kicked out, knocking him back slightly, and rolled to my feet.  
"Do you know how many people have died because of you? Give me one reason I shouldn't snap your neck and leave you for the maggots!"  
Liberator stood and brushed at the front of his long coat, which now had a wet imprint of my foot right in the centre "I can give you two. First off, you can't. You're no match for me and you know it."  
I bristled at the words but that didn't make them untrue. In my current state it would take him seconds to crush me, optimistically.  
"And second" He continued "You should hear the whole story before you decide that I'm the villain in all this."  
I don't know if I'd call him 'villain', just yet, but he'd certainly done enough to warrant 'arsehole' or 'bastard'. Maybe even 'mother-loving syphilitic bag of the scrotal variety', if I was feeling imaginative. And yet…  
"Go on then" I sighed "State your piece."  
He looked relieved "Good. Thank you for giving me a chance. But… There's more this than I can tell you, you have to see it for yourself."  
He reached into his pocket and pulled out something that looked like a Guild seal but there was something not quite right about it. It looked corrupted, like a bastardised copy. He held his other hand out towards me. I looked down at his outstretched palm and then into his eyes.  
"If this is a trap…" I said, trying my best to keep my voice solid and measured "I will kill you. No threat. I will find a way to kill you and I will bury you where no one will ever find you."  
Liberator didn't say a word, he just held my gaze. His eyes… where those of an older man, eyes that had seen a truth too horrible to describe with words. I took his hand and let the blue aura bubble up around us. My stomach lurched and a there was a sound like fire crackling in my ears.

Imagine that your body was being forced through a ring that's half its size. Also imagine that the ring is covered in shards of glass. And set on fire for good measure. That's almost as painful as travelling through Liberators ersatz guild seal. When we landed back on solid ground I didn't even take note of where I had arrived, I just fell to my knees and the let the contents of my, mostly empty, stomach leave me. From somewhere I heard Liberator say "Yeah, it does that the first few times." Then he was drowned out by my own retching. My stomach gave a final heave and I realised that I was kneeling in a thick expanse of pearl-white snow. Liberator grabbed me by the arm and hoisted me up to my feet, which were already starting the quivering dance that comes with the cold. He started to wade through the ankle-deep snow, dragging me along with him.  
"Come on" He said over his shoulder "We need to get you inside."  
I took in my surroundings, we were in a forest clearing with a ring of blackened and dead trees surrounding it. On the edge of the clearing was a small but cosy-looking house, its windows glowing with warm, buttery candlelight. My feet were tingling in the snow, and not in the good way. The shivers were spreading up through my legs, infecting the rest of my body.  
"You couldn't have warned me about the snow?" I asked, teeth clicking together "Got me a coat? Some boots? Anything?"  
Liberator looked back over his shoulder again and said "I came to rescue you, not buy you a new wardrobe."  
"I liked you better when you didn't talk!"  
"I liked you better when you weren't an ungrateful bitch. Oh wait, you've always been that!"  
I let a small smile creep onto my face. No matter what I thought of Liberator now, I had missed the time when I could call him a friend. As we neared the lonesome little cottage its door was flung wide open, a figure stood silhouetted by the light from inside. It spoke.  
"Is that him?"  
Liberator grunted and pulled me up beside him. The cold air and the snow under my feet was making every movement an agony, my joints screaming out for warmth. Liberator may have healed me with whatever that green light was, but the recovery process was evidently far from done. The man in the doorway took me by the shoulder and led me inside.  
"Damn it Dad, he's as cold as a corpse"  
Light and heat hit me like a physical wall, so overpowering that dancing spots clouded my vision and the words of the mysterious man were lost in the roar of blood returning to my ears. One word struck me though, 'Dad'. As my sight cleared I spun around to face the man. It took me a moment to recognize him, it was someone I never thought I'd see again.  
"Sabre… Is that you?"  
He was different. A lot thinner, pale enough to appear sickly, but it was undeniably the young Hero that had vanished mid-teleport a few weeks and a lifetime ago.  
He gave me an odd half-smile and said "Yeah, it's me Hunter. Just sit, you need to get warm."  
Too confused to argue, I sank into a soft armchair and waited for the shivering to stop.

Sometime later, Liberator sat opposite me. Sabre had left the house to "Dig up the supplies", whatever that meant. My bones were finally beginning to feel solid again and for a while I just watched the fireplace, flickering tongues of flame throwing distorted shadows around the comfy but spartan room. Finally, I raised my eyes and spoke.  
"He's your son?"  
Liberator nodded, his long hair falling over his face "Born just around the time I fought Twinblade." His voice was low, and somewhat cracked now. None of the forced jollity I'd heard before "His mother, she took him to the guild when I was trapped in Bargate Prison. She thought it would be best not to tell anyone who his father was."  
"Smart move" I replied "I seem to recall the Guildmaster wasn't too happy with you back then."  
He nodded again.  
"So he was reporting back to you? You had a spy in the Guild the entire time?"  
"That's right. He was going to feed false information back to the Guildmaster, keep you and the rest of the Heroes off my trail… and then the Cult of Blades took him." I looked up at this "He was in that godforsaken torture chamber with you, for a lot longer than you were."  
"Feel guilty?" I asked. Liberator met my stare with a face like granite "You are the reason the Cult exists, right?"  
"I'm not denying it" He said "I created the Cult of Blades. I made them think that Jack was waiting to return, ready to strike down the non-believers as long as they did what I say. They were a failed experiment but I let them continue their work. I thought they would be a good distraction to the Guild, if nothing else. The only proviso I gave them was that they left my son alone."  
"They didn't, so you killed them all. Innocent and guilty alike."  
"The Cult was a mistake" He said, a hard edge in his voice "A mistake that I rectified! And don't pretend you're a saint Hunter, you've made your fair share of mistakes in the past."  
"I don't care about the Cult!" I barked, rising from my chair "And I don't care about your son, or why you left the Guild, or why you left the way you did." I stood in front of Liberator, hands balled into fists. "I don't even care that you've been fucking with my head since the word 'go'! Right now, I only care about two things. Why are you doing all this, and why did you have to involve me in it?"  
Liberator seemed taken aback.  
"Isn't it obvious?" He leaned forward in his chair, old-mans eyes alight with the embers of the fire. Liberator, the most powerful Hero in the land, beloved of the people of Albion, looked me right in the eye and said "Hunter, my old friend… You're going to help me destroy the Heroes Guild."

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**Sorry it took so long for a new chapter (Its my damn life getting in the way again!) but its finally up and I hope you all enjoy it. The next chapter will be the finale of this tale, and I promise that it won't take another 5-6 months to get written this time. As always, thanks go to ShadowedFang for beta-ing this chapter.**


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